I’ve been a creativity coach and writing instructor for over a decade. I’ve taught leadership for 7 years. I love watching people grow and flourish as creatives and humans.
But over the past year, the social and literary landscapes have changed dramatically, and I’ve heard different needs and challenges expressed, especially by writers. I’ve also noticed, more recently, low morale among creatives in general.
To broaden my offerings and better help, I signed up for an intensive coaching certification program focusing on mindset coaching and helping people build adaptive skills. It had nothing to do with writing. The lessons were on active listening and asking the right questions. Practical stuff I’ve never studied so intensely.
The live demos and practice sessions allowed me to use different parts of my brain with intention, and I will apply these skills to my business and the writers I support.
But here’s the thing . . .
One of the biggest takeaways was advice I’ve also come across in leadership research, negotiations, and mentorship. Said advice goes as follows:
If you want to support someone to find their own best answer, you never (or very, very rarely) ask them why.
Specifically, you don’t ask why they . . . feel a certain way, think a certain way, are attracted to a certain person, desire x or y, look up to z, or are hurt by a. You don’t ask because it rarely leads to an action-oriented outcome.
Meanwhile, what do writers do?
We create from the why. We live in the why. The WWWW&H are just background details. Why drives everything.
Why are we on this planet?
Why do we die?
Why is guacamole so good?
Why are the most peaceful movements often the targets of violence?
Why do we crave the things that poison us?
Why are some people “dog people” and others “cat people”?*
Why do dangerous people (who probably aren’t dog or cat people) end up in leadership roles?
Why are the most fleeting things the most precious?
Why do we think we need the things we don’t need?
Why is manipulation so simple, yet so effective?
Why do the simple moments end up being the most profound?
Why, why, why…
We work these whys out in fiction, CNF, poetry, and visual art. We (and, yes, I’m profiling a certain kind of writer here but likely the type who’d read anything I write) crave discussion about the meaningful questions over what Taylor Swift wore or how much rain is expected next Tuesday.
If we’ve been in the writing/art game a while, we learn not to impose answers but rather place our questions (all of which can be boiled down to why?) ever more delicately and insistently in the reader’s palm.
We make people think about the big questions. This is what writers do.
As a coach, I will help writers explore the whys that matter to them by asking what, who, when, where, and how.
But as a writer, I will ask why. And so should you.
So here’s a prompt: Ask a BIG “why” question in a short piece.
*If you know of a well-written example of a writer tackling this one, from a humorous or serious perspective, I’d love to read it.
Next week, I’ll talk about energy, and I can’t wait to explore the whys around that topic. For my supporters, here’s a qigong-inspired meditation in the meantime. Make sure you have a little room to yourself for these 6 minutes. :)
As a newspaper journalist, we were trained to ask Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How in conducting interviews and writing stories. "Why" has been a hard habit to break, but your encouragement not to ask it of others but instead ask it during the creative process rings as faithful and genuine. For better or worse, I suppose I'll always be curious about the "why" of people ...
Maybe they aren't creatives. Maybe they are ... Um ---how about 'baboons'?